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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938198">get off the fence, honey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb'>cupcakeb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elite (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Lu and Polo being THAT couple, Weddings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Madrid hasn’t changed one bit. She didn’t want to come back here, but when your best friend sends you a wedding invitation and asks you to be their maid of honor, you kind of have to go.</p><p>Even if you may be avoiding certain other people in attendance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Leopoldo "Polo" Benavent Villada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>get off the fence, honey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>99% of my titles are really just random dagny lyrics I like. this one's <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/02CRZrXNAsrarmQMxWNuN3?si=9nuDBxszQqiUJZc7peK28Q">from this</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madrid hasn’t changed one bit. She didn’t want to come back here, but when your best friend sends you a wedding invitation you kind of have to go.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn’t surprise Lu that Carla is the first of her friends to get married. What’s surprising, maybe, is the guy she’s marrying. Even six years after Carla sat her down to ask for her explicit permission to date Guzmán — like she’d <em>ever</em> want him back, no thanks — it’s still a little weird to think of them as a couple, even though they’re a great one. She’s happy for them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s been back in town for two days. That’s two more days than she’s spent here in the past five years. While she’s successfully avoided running into anyone from her past so far, she knows it’s only a matter of time until she does. Valerio is graciously letting her stay in his spare room, which is nice because hotel rooms typically end up bumming her out too much in the long run. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right now, she’s on his couch, using jet-lag as an excuse for why she only just woke up when it’s two in the afternoon. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lu groans, then buries her face in the nearest throw pillow she can find and figures that answers his question. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">//</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This whole thing is fucking <em>weird</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s not jealous of Carla for being at this point in her life, that’s not it. But as she looks around the room at the intimate yet upscale wedding venue, she keeps thinking about how bizarre life is.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Most of the people they went to high school with are scattered around the room, all looking happy and mature and excited to be here. Perhaps that’s the weirdest part of all of this — that these people are somehow still in touch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lu hardly leaves New York these days, so keeping up with anyone but Carla has proven to be tough. She doesn’t tend to be around for these silly informal reunions people organize and she definitely skipped her actual, official five-year high school reunion four years ago, and yet here she is, forced to catch up with all these people from her past anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thanks a lot, Carla. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Briefly, she wonders how Carla is so comfortable having three of her exes here tonight. Samuel is currently chatting with Yeray at the bar, and she could swear she saw Polo with his arm around Valerio earlier as they engaged in typical manly catching-up-after-not-seeing-each-other-for-a-while behavior. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe that’s her real problem with being here — she’s scared she may end up having to acknowledge the colossal mistake she made last year. It’s one thing for Carla to marry <em>her</em> ex-boyfriend, but she has a feeling the blonde wouldn’t take too kindly to the news that Lu kind of sort of maybe ended up in Polo’s hotel bed when she ran into him at an event in New York last November. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And fine — maybe they didn’t exactly run into each other. Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe he texted her to wear something pretty and took her to this gorgeous, fancy press event at the Met and spent the rest of the night doing everything in his power to pull her into his gentlemanly spell. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was just one night of harmless fun, one night of pretending they’re different people who don’t share the kind of history they do and she hasn’t seen him since, hasn’t even found a good excuse to text him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s Rebeka who finally makes her break out of her little staring exercise when she leans over and holds up her champagne flute for a toast. Lu clinks it with hers and smiles reluctantly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Weirdest thing you’ve learned about one of our former classmates tonight. Go.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes her a minute to decide. She hasn’t spoken to everyone yet, but there’s been a bunch of very random information offered up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Omar being married to someone who isn’t Ander. And they have a kid, too?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That definitely takes the cake. At least the breakup with Ander must’ve been pretty civil, since they’re both still friends with most of the people in the room and must see each other around. Lu is pretty sure she’ll never get to that level of maturity. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rebeka laughs and nods, and Lu raises an eyebrow in challenge. Chances are Rebeka is a lot more up to date on what their former friends are up to, since she actually lives here, but still — she wants to know what sort of weird chitchat she’s had to endure tonight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Polo told me he was in New York on business last year,” she quips. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “Isn’t that interesting?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, very fucking funny. Nice try. The girl is clearly trying to get Lu to bite. She isn’t going to. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would hardly call that interesting.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rebeka glances at her one last time, then shrugs and changes the subject. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crisis averted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">// </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In hindsight, her biggest misstep was waiting until she’s on her third glass of champagne to talk to him. If it was up to her, she probably would’ve waited until the bottle of Moët was completely empty, so maybe she should be grateful to him for tapping her on the shoulder as she’s leaning against the bar. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey you,” he says, casual and confident, looking dashing in a well-pressed crisp white shirt and dark blue pants. They match her dress — she didn’t realize midnight blue was a popular color in fashion this year. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And no, she’s not gonna let this be weird. They’re adults who enjoyed a night of consensual sex; that’s it. She turns towards him, then leans in for cheek kisses and smiles at him when he keeps his hand on her arm where it’s resting on the bar as they talk. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know,” he starts, his voice suddenly a whole octave lower. She instantly feels anticipation and dread course through her veins at the sound of it. “Kind of thought you’d show up here eight months pregnant, what with the way you ghosted me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gasps and grasps her champagne flute tighter to fight the urge to toy with his hand instead. “I did not ghost you,” she whispers heatedly. What a ridiculous thing to imply. “It’s not like we’re friends.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Polo laughs, shakes his head and nods good-naturedly. “You’re right. How foolish of me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s a very strange thing to say, and if she felt like over-analyzing it, she might wonder if he’s... implying he might want to be her friend? Then again, she might just be too tipsy to read between the lines. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s never been very good at that with him anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully someone rings a bell somewhere, and a voice announces dinner is about to be served, so she goes and takes her seat next to Ander, who’s Guzmán’s best man. They’re not doing any of that silly bridesmaids and groomsmen thing — it’s just her and Ander as maid of honor and best man respectively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the rest of the night, she keeps catching Polo looking at her, even as he seemingly enjoys himself over at the other table with Omar and Valerio and their dates. He’s by himself, she can’t help but notice. (Maybe she’s looking, too.) </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She catches up with him after dinner when he’s out in the garden of the venue, nursing a glass of scotch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where’s your plus one?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s her way of letting him know she’s at least <em>considering</em> the option of coming onto him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t turn around, instead just chuckles as she steps closer to him and settles at his side. They’re shoulder to shoulder, and it must look really weird to anyone else — like they’re Bond villains discussing their next move. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to try and be subtle, Lu,” he mutters. “We both know it’s not your forte.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She bites out a laugh. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I was going for subtlety.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Polo tilts his head the slightest bit, which inadvertently makes her look at his lips. They’re curled upwards in a satisfied smirk, and god, she fucking hates when he gets cocky. It makes her want to win a game neither of them is even playing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you really gonna sleep with me at Carla’s wedding? Does she know?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, he <em>would</em> call her out like this. Typical. Using her insecurities against her and somehow turning them into a fucking pickup line. He’s infuriating; she has no idea why she’s even talking to him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I could say the same thing to you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That makes him grin. He moves his right arm just slightly so he can wrap his hand around her wrist. He’s toying with her sleek silver bracelet, and if it didn’t feel so good she’d tell him to stop. Someone could see.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s my ex but she’s your best friend… Isn’t there some sort of girl code against this kind of thing?”<br/>
<br/>
Lu rolls her eyes. This isn’t gonna work on her. “She’s literally marrying my ex-boyfriend, Polo.”<br/>
<br/>
He drops the subject, but he doesn’t drop her wrist. She’d really appreciate it if he did — his touch is a little distracting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who are you staying with?”<br/>
<br/>
It’s those damn blue eyes. He fixes them on her, then smiles just wide enough for it to make his eyes crinkle a little and she’s done for. They’re just too blue.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Valerio,” Lu sighs. So they’re doing this, then. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go inside and say your goodbyes, tell Carla you’re drunk and want to get some rest before the big day tomorrow,” he instructs more than says, and she finds herself nodding reluctantly. “I’ve got a hotel room in the city.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She doesn’t ask about that, even though she wants to. Where the fuck does he live now if it isn’t Madrid? Maybe she should make an effort to at least know these basic things about him if she’s gonna make sleeping with him a habit. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back inside, she runs into Valerio first and figures she probably needs to let him know she won’t be sleeping at his place tonight. God, he’s gonna be so annoying about that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Leaving so soon, sis?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rolls her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do <em>not</em> use my current state of inebriation against me. I’m going home with someone, and if you tell any of our friends I’ll have to brutally murder you,” Val looks intrigued, but her threat has the desired effect; he nods and pats her on the shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. She likes how he’s so good at minding his own business.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Carla is the more difficult sell. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But Lu, it’s not even midnight,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “The whole point of rehearsal dinners is to get wasted enough to be hungover for the wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ah, so Carla is at least tipsy as well. That’s good; she won’t fight her on this too hard. Besides, she’s got an entire room full of guests to entertain — she probably won’t miss her much. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The blonde pouts, but then she’s hugging her so she can’t be all that upset. Right as Lu is about to leave, Carla pulls her closer so she can whisper in her ear, says, “Tell him no marks on your neck, I don’t want my maid of honor to look like a battered wife.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gasps, then pulls back to glare at Carla who’s just grinning at her. It’s weird how everyone around her just always seems to know what she’s up to these days. Maybe she’s too predictable. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t mind?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Carla laughs out loud, then gestures to Guzmán across the room, talking to both of their mothers. “I’m getting married tomorrow, Lu,” she says and a giddy grin flashes on her face. “I don’t think I get to judge you for sleeping with one of my exes.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is all too fucking bizarre to handle after all of the champagne she’s had, so she nods resolutely, then kisses Carla on the cheek and heads for the door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Polo’s got a car waiting for them a few paces away from valet parking, and she shoots him a grateful smile when he holds the door open for her. She’ll never know why she’s such a sucker for good old fashioned gentlemanly manners. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slides into the backseat next to her and spends the entire twenty-minute drive toying with the hem of her dress mid-thigh, keeps his eyes focused straight ahead and ignores the quiet whines and pleas she lets out to encourage him to move his hand higher. Maybe she’s not as into manners as she thought; this sucks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When the car comes to a halt she stifles a laugh. Of course he’s staying at the Westin. A valet comes over to hold the door open for her and she thanks him, then waits for Polo to get out of the car and reaches for his hand. She won’t have guests at this fancy hotel think she’s some harlot who he’s taking back to his room for the night. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hotel lobby is ridiculously gorgeous, filled with lavish decor and an actual stained-glass dome for a ceiling so she chuckles quietly and grins at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What,” he whispers, nodding to the bell boy at the elevators who pushes the button for them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing,” she says, then leans up to kiss his cheek all innocently. “You’re just a snob, that’s all.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The elevator doors open and they walk inside and Polo gives the attendant his floor number so he can key it in. Kind of a pointless waste of resources, having this guy stand here all day to literally push buttons, but maybe that’s the ruthless businesswoman in her talking. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once the doors close and they’re alone again, Polo smirks at her and pushes her against the elevator wall. “Of course I’m a snob,” he says, then leans forward to nose at her neck. “I have very expensive taste in... <em>everything</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t be bought, darling,” she replies, and doesn’t mean it one bit. Maybe not with money, but one stupid snide remark from him and she’s gone for, so it’s all about using the right currency to buy her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He keeps a hand on her lower back as they walk to his room, and predictably his entire demeanor changes the second the door is securely locked behind them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her dress is on the floor in seconds, something she’s glad about for multiple reasons, namely that she’s sure he would’ve torn it to shreds otherwise, and when she reaches down to take off her heels, he pulls her up by the arm roughly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Those stay,” he says, leaving no room for objections. “I want you at eye level.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The heels come in handy when he bends her over the desk in his suite.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She can’t wait to count the bruises on her body in the morning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">//<br/>
<br/>
Back at the venue for hair and makeup, the makeup artist is less than pleased with the distinct hickey on her neck. Carla looks smug as she glances over at her in her white robe, her hair up in a towel.<br/>
<br/>
“What did I say about marks?”<br/>
<br/>
Lu looks up from painting her nails and rolls her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry, your wedding aesthetic wasn’t really my number one priority last night,” she grins.<br/>
<br/>
The blonde laughs, then pours them some more champagne. “Clearly,” she remarks, and if this wasn’t her wedding day, Lu would probably be annoyed at the teasing. She’ll let it slide today.<br/>
<br/>
Of course the reception is beautiful. It’s charming and tasteful and intimate and absolutely perfect for Carla and Guzmán. In a total power move, Carla walks herself down the aisle, robbing her asshole of a father — Lu never liked that man — of an opportunity to assert dominance.<br/>
<br/>
Lu tears up before they’ve even said their vows, but as she looks around the room she’s definitely not the only one. Marina is clinging to her mother’s arm, both of them dabbing at their eyes, and even Polo looks a little choked up. He catches her eye and smiles at her and she has to look away before she does something embarrassing, like let him make her blush.<br/>
<br/>
She ends the night in his bed again, which is not the least bit surprising, and in the morning she’s kind of reluctant to get up.<br/>
<br/>
“There’ll be other weddings,” he says. He’s completely naked as he plays with a strand of her hair, and she’s pretty sure she isn’t gonna leave this bed anytime soon. “I’ll let you know if I get invited to any.”<br/>
<br/>
“And business trips,” Lu quips, emboldened by the way he’s pulling her closer so he can wrap an arm around her from behind. “I’m invited to those, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Pending review from the board,” he agrees. “Since I’m in publishing and you work for the Times, they might consider that a conflict of interest.”<br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes and elbows him. “I’m in finance, that hardly counts as working in publishing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, excuse me,” he mocks, and she can feel him grin against her neck. “She’s in <em>finance</em>. Look at her!”<br/>
<br/>
Groaning, she turns around and feigns strangling him, then grabs a handful of his hair and moves closer. “You’re so full of shit.”<br/>
<br/>
He kisses her before she can object.<br/>
<br/>
//<br/>
<br/>
One of her college friends invites her to her wedding somewhere in rural Idaho, and she texts Polo before she can resist.<br/>
<br/>
“You know I was joking when I told you to come, right?”<br/>
<br/>
They’re slow dancing at the wedding reception, and he looks absolutely to die for. She definitely did a double-take when he walked into their hotel room earlier.<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles, then pulls back slightly to smirk at her. “No, you weren’t.”<br/>
<br/>
They don’t stay for more than a few drinks. The bride is already too drunk to notice much of anything anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“I never used to like weddings much,” she tells him later that night. She’s naked and on top of him, trying to catch her breath.<br/>
<br/>
It’s three in the morning, and she has a feeling she won’t be able to walk tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
“If you think about it, it’s actually romantic, how much we’re pulling for everyone we know to get married so we can go to more weddings.”<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't really mean to smile the way she does, but oh well. He's got a point.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me <a href="http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/">on tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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